


Working Relationship

by my_angel_misha



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Castiel is Dean’s therapist, Dean is 27 and Cas is 34, Dean is grieving at the beginning of the fic, Fluff, M/M, Mechanic!Dean Winchester, Minor character death but it doesn’t occur during the storyline, Sammy is a good brother, Smut, There will be explicit stuff in later chapters probably, There’s a bit of an age difference between them, They fall in love of course, therapist!castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 08:41:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22313308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_angel_misha/pseuds/my_angel_misha
Summary: Dean Winchester is twenty-seven years old when his boyfriend Benny dies in a horrific car accident. They hadn’t been doing well - everybody knew that - but Dean was still wracked with immense guilt and grief. His brother Sam recommends that he sees a therapist, because he insists that Dean is digging himself into a hole that he’ll have trouble getting out of. With much hesitation, Dean agrees, and it might just be the best decision he’s ever made.
Relationships: Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester (in the past), Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 14
Kudos: 25





	1. Coming to Terms

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am not a psychologist or a therapist, beyond what I learned in Psych 101. My knowledge on depression and mental illness is mostly limited to what I have learned during my schooling and through family with mental illnesses. I do not mean to belittle anyone with depression or ANY mental illness. You are loved. You are cared for. With that being said, please enjoy this fic! I love you all <3
> 
> Many thanks to my beautiful best friend & beta [alonelyghost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alonelyghost). Love u babe ;)

When Dean was twenty-seven years old, his life came to a grinding halt. It was something that he never could’ve seen coming, never could’ve expected, beyond the irrational thoughts of “what if?” that we all have. Benny, his boyfriend of more than three and a half years, was stolen from him in the most horrific way possible. A drunk driver had swerved into his lane on the highway and hit his car head on. Ironically enough, the other driver had survived with nothing but a broken arm and rib. Benny, on the other hand, had died on impact. Life was funny that way.

Dean’s hatred for the drunk driver was insurmountable. He wished it had been him instead - the other man deserved it, after all, not his sweet Benny. Who was drunk at eleven a.m. on a Tuesday, anyway? Douche bags, that’s who. Apparently the guy had no family, barely any friends. The world wouldn’t have missed him.  
  
Eventually, Dean’s hatred for the other man subsided, giving way to a much more troubling hatred for himself. If they hadn’t fought that day, if Benny hadn’t stormed out, none of this would’ve happened. If Dean had stopped Benny from walking out that door, asked him for forgiveness, he’d still be alive. And he loathed himself for that fact, during every waking hour of the day. Survivor’s guilt, Sammy called it, in that too-caring voice of his, with those hazel eyes that burned into his soul, told him it was okay when it wasn’t and never could be. 

In the months leading up to the accident, Benny and Dean had been struggling with their relationship, and it was no secret to their friends and family. Things had been strained between them, for reasons unknown. Most days, they didn’t speak more than a few sentences to one another, and their intimacy was close to nonexistent. Maybe it had been just a low for them, or maybe they had been getting close to ending things completely. He just didn’t want it to end like this. Anything but this.   
  
But now that Benny was gone, all of those bad times were irrelevant. All Dean could think of was how much he’d loved the other man, and how much he missed him. How his absence felt like someone had pulled a chunk of his heart out while it was still beating. If he could’ve had just one more kiss, if his last words hadn’t been something cruel - he didn’t know how much more he could handle before he cracked.   
  
The Winchesters had their vices, just as any other family did, but for them specifically, it was alcohol; John Winchester was a not-so-living testament to that. Before the accident, Dean hadn’t ever felt a need to get drunk, but now, it was all he ever craved - that numb feeling that almost seemed to help, but ultimately made him feel worse in the end. Three shots took the edge off. Four shots started to help him to forget. Five shots numbed his mind and body. Dean usually stopped counting after that, either passing out or throwing up into the toilet until he couldn’t breathe. It was his own doing, really. 

Most days, Dean stayed holed up in his house like a recluse, with all the lights off. He owned the garage where he worked, so it wasn’t like he had to ask for time off, which was a convenient excuse for him to stay home and wallow. He’d lost weight, as his meal schedule was fairly nonexistent - a bag of chips here or there, maybe an apple if he was having a better day.

Needless to say, Sam was starting to worry for Dean. A couple times a week, his little brother would come over with groceries that would ultimately rot in the fridge. They’d talk - Well, Sam would talk and Dean would listen. It was comforting, though, as Sam had always been his rock, especially during dark times - and this was by far the darkest. They’d sit there and Sam would tell him about his week, about the clients he’d been helping, or his most recent case. Dean would acknowledge him at the right times, humming in response to most questions thrown his way, but no light showed behind his eyes. It was as if he was on auto pilot, going through the motions of what a normal person would do during a conversation without actually thinking about it. 

It was a rainy Saturday afternoon when Dean heard Sam knock on his front door. He’d been expecting him, having memorized Sam’s schedule in an unconscious manner. Today had been particularly rough on Dean so far, as it would’ve been their four year anniversary if Benny were still alive. He’d spent most of the day so far in a depressed stupor, taking breaks from crying to get lost in dark thoughts. 

Dean was more thankful for Sam’s presence than ever today, going over slowly to answer the door. He was dressed in an old band T-shirt and sweatpants that were covered in a multitude of stains that Sam didn’t ask about. He’d managed to shower earlier, so that was a definitive plus on his end.

Dean opened the door slowly, giving Sam a shaky smile and stepping aside so his brother could come in. ”Hi, Sammy... ‘S good to see you.” Dean murmured, already on the verge of tears as he had yet another thought about Benny. 

“Hey, De. It’s good to see you too - always is.” Sam said softly, his voice as soothing as ever, going to wrap Dean in a tight hug. Sam leaned down to rest his head on the shorter man’s shoulder, squeezing his brother tightly.   
  
Dean leaned away after a moment, sniffling softly as he tried to give Sam another smile that ended up looking more like a grimace than anything else. “Come on in... Sit down.” 

Sam nodded as he neatly kicked his shoes off, setting a plastic bag down on the living room table. “I brought pie... Apple.” He murmured, taking a seat on the couch and watching Dean as he took a seat next to him.

Dean’s eyes didn’t light up like they used to when he was offered pie, but he worked up a small smile for Sammy so he didn’t worry. “Thanks, Sammy. I’ll dig into it later.” He probably wouldn’t. 

“How have you been doing, Dean? Any better?” Sam asked, his voice low and genuine. His gaze flickered down to the dark circles under Dean’s eyes, his normally vibrant green eyes looking hollow in a way that worried him to the bone.   
  
“Yeah, I’m good. Y’know, the usual.” Dean said slowly, trying to sound as reassuring as possible, although they both knew that it wasn’t true. 

Sam nodded in response, giving Dean a casual smile, as if he believed that his brother was fine. “Good, that’s good... Glad you’re doing better, De. You know that I worry about you.” 

“You don’t have to... I’m fine.” Dean turned his eyes away and down to the hem of his T-shirt, picking at an unraveling string so he wouldn’t have to meet Sam’s eyes. It was a lie, and they both knew it, but sometimes it was better to just play along.   
  
“I know you are, and that’s very good. You’re strong, Dean. Stronger than anyone I know - you always have been.” Sam said honestly, gently bumping Dean with his shoulder. All throughout his life, Dean had been the first person Sam went to during any dilemma. His first loose tooth, his first heartbreak, his first college rejection letter. That’s why Sam was doing everything in his power to help his brother in any way he could; he deserved nothing less than the very best. 

Dean felt his voice crack as he spoke, his calm demeanor falling away right in front of Sam. “Strong? Fuck, Sammy - I hate myself. I hate waking up in the morning. I hate looking in the mirror and not knowing who the hell is staring back at me. I hate seeing a face that isn’t mine. Every day feels like I’m walking on nails - I never know when I’m going to break down and sob, get drunk, throw up, wish I were dead-” He paused for a moment, tears spilling down his cheeks unbidden, his eyes turning up to Sam, hollow and disbelieving. “I can’t believe I just said that. I wish I were dead sometimes. I really do.” 

“Dean.” Sam breathed out, unable to help the tears from falling down his own face. “Dean, no... Don’t say that, please.” He said desperately, his voice going all baby-brother soft, taking on the same quality as when he used to ask if he could sleep in Dean’s bed when they were little - hesitant and scared, small and fragile. Sam pulled Dean into a hug, squeezing him as tightly as he could manage, nosing into Dean’s hair. “Don’t say that... I could never live without you. You’re my Dean. You’re the only family I have left.”

Dean relaxed into the embrace, grateful for the grounding touch and words. No, he didn’t want to die. He didn’t. He would be fine. Eventually. “I’m sorry... Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. You know I’d never leave you, Sammy. I’m so sorry.” He whispered, squeezing Sam back almost desperately. For a long moment, Dean just let himself be held by Sam, trying to slow his breathing down and relax to a point where it didn’t hurt to exist. After a few minutes, he leaned away, pulling the hem of his shirt up to wipe his tear tracks away. 

“Dean, I want you to see a therapist. I know how you feel about them, but I really think it could help you. I can’t stand seeing you like this. I just want you to feel happy again.” Sam murmured quietly, meeting Dean’s eyes with a determined expression.

“I’m a man, Sammy. I should be able to solve my own damn problems. Dad always said that a man shouldn’t rely on anyone else for their own emotions.” Dean shook his head, hearing every John Winchester speech he’d ever been given in his mind. 

“Dean, dad isn’t here anymore. And as much as I love him, he wasn’t always a good role model for mental health. Please, just try it for a month, and if you hate it, you don’t have to go back, alright? I’ll even pay for it and drive you there. Please, for me?” Sam said quietly, giving Dean those damned puppy-dog eyes that he’d been pulling on him since he was able to walk. 

“Fine, damnit. I’ll go for a month, but if they have me sing Kumbaya and make tea from my tears or some shit, I’m never going again.” Dean cocked an eyebrow at Sam, sounding just a little bit like himself again, making his brother smile slightly. 

“Thank you, De. You won’t regret it. I know just the guy, actually. His brother is a lawyer friend of mine. Apparently he’s one of the best.” Sam said softly as he ran a hand through his mop of hair, nodding knowingly. 

“I’d better not regret it.” Dean grumbled, sniffling quietly for a moment to try and abate his post-traumatic stuffy nose. 

After another hour of visiting, Sam left for the night, leaving Dean with the name and number of one Castiel Novak, therapist extraordinaire. Even the guy’s name was stupid and pretentious. Dean didn’t have much hope for the appointment, but he called anyway, scheduling a consultation for next week. 

Dean went to bed early that night, if just to get away from his darkening thoughts. He did end up having a slice of pie before bed, and it almost made him feel better. He fell asleep no later than nine p.m., not having cried since Sammy left, his sleep surprisingly devoid of nightmares for once. 

Maybe he was stronger than he thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave me a kudos or a comment if you enjoyed! <3


	2. First Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean goes to his first consultation with his therapist, Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y’all enjoy this chapter! :)

Dean was more than a little surprised to get a call back the very next morning over breakfast, as he was spooning corn flakes into his mouth. He watched his phone ring for a moment, half-tempted to not pick up at all because of his perpetually shitty mood. But, he swallowed his food and picked up the phone with a barely audible sigh. ”Dean Winchester.” He greeted rather drily. 

“Hello, this is Castiel Novak, calling about your appointment next week. I was wondering if you’d like to schedule a free consultation beforehand, just to lay down guidelines and expectations for the both of us.” 

The man’s voice was deeper than Dean had expected, like he ate rocks for breakfast. It had a soothing edge to it, though, and Dean supposed that was a positive attribute, considering the man’s profession. 

“Yeah, uh... I can do that. When are you available?” Dean asked, secretly glad for the consultation. If the guy ended up being a dick, Dean would likely realize by the end of the session, and he’d leave with just as much money as he went in with. 

“I will be in my office this afternoon, if that’s amenable for you. I have a previously scheduled appointment from one to three, but after that I am free for the day. Would three-thirty work for you?” 

Dean absently glanced towards the clock on the living room wall, noting that it was a little bit after ten. “Yeah, three-thirty’s fine. Do I need to bring anything?”

”Just yourself, and any other grounding items you’d prefer to bring. Some clients like to bring in stuffed animals or blankets. For some, it helps to have items that one would associate with positivity during more negative conversations.” 

Dean couldn’t help but laugh a little bit at the prospect, shaking his head, although he knew that the other man couldn’t see him. He noticed vaguely that Castiel referred to the people he saw as clients, not patients, which was interesting. “Nah, man. I’ll be alright, unless you want me to drag my car up into your office for moral support.” The Impala was Dean’s grounding item, but that didn’t do much for him in this situation.

Dean heard a quiet noise over the phone, which could’ve been either a hushed laugh, or a cough of some sort. ”Unfortunately, I don’t think my office is big enough for that. I apologize.”

”It’s alright, man.” Dean started as he played with a line of splintering wood on the kitchen table, scraping the tip of it under his thumbnail in an antsy manner; he was getting nervous already. “Three-thirty?”

”Three-thirty it is. I’ll see you then, Mr. Winchester. Goodbye.” The line then clicked dead.

Well, Castiel didn’t sound unpleasant, but one couldn’t base someone’s personality off of a phone call. If anything, he sounded a little stuck up in the way that was inevitable for those with office jobs. Although, he wasn’t sure if therapy was considered an office job. Or was he considered a psychologist? Psychiatrist? He’d have to ask about that.

After finishing his breakfast, Dean took a shower and got dressed for the day. He wore a faded band T-shirt, a red and black flannel, and a pair of dark wash jeans. The man hadn’t left his home in weeks, so just leaving was a huge step for Dean, not to mention going straight to therapy. It was shaping up to be an interesting day for sure.

Despite Dean’s busy schedule for the day, he felt better than he had in a week or so, which was definitely a plus for him. Some days he could manage to get up and around, even cleaning up the house or doing laundry. Some days didn’t go as well, though, and he’d end up wallowing in bed until the next day. He was internally glad that he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown today, as that would’ve made his first therapy appointment more difficult than it was already going to be. 

Dean left his house around three in the afternoon, getting into the Impala and wincing as he saw how dusty the dashboard was. Maybe he’d take a day to clean her up soon. Simple thoughts such as those were proof to Dean that he was doing better, but his lows were still frequent and lower than he’d like them to be. 

Driving over to the address Sammy had given him for Dr. Novak, Dean was a little bit on edge. He watched the other drivers like a hawk, swerving whenever someone even remotely inched over the middle line. It wasn’t surprising, though, after what had happened to Benny. You never know what could happen on the road.

Dean pulled up to the address at 3:25, taking a few minutes to parallel park Baby. He loved the Impala, but she was a big car, and parallel parking was a _bitch._ After another minute of wiggling into the parking spot bit by bit, Dean finally got out of the car and walked into the brick building. It was a friendly-looking building from the outside, the dusty red brick of the exterior walls painted white to give it a more appealing look - that’s what he assumed, at least.

It was friendly on the inside as well, rather reminiscent of a dentist’s office, which... well, maybe wasn’t a good thing, but whatever. Dean walked up to the receptionist and gave her a friendly smile, absently noticing her fire red hair and berry-colored lipstick. She was a woman who Dean would normally flirt with, even just in good jest, but... nothing. Nada. 

“I’m Dean Winchester. I have a consultation with Dr. Novak for three-thirty.” He said simply with another polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Dean considered himself to be a people person, the life of the party, but now he could barely work up a polite smile most of the time. 

“Yes, Dr. Novak is waiting for you. Go on in.” The receptionist said with a smile, nodding towards Dean with a patient expression. 

Dean nodded in response and gave her another small smile before beginning to walk towards the wooden door at the end of the room. He gave a hesitant knock before cracking open the door, taking a look around. “Dr. Novak?”

”Dean... Please come in,” Came the low voice from inside the room, prompting Dean to take a step into the room and shut the door behind him.

The room was surprisingly comfortable, more so than Dean had been expecting. It was reminiscent of a library, in Dean’s opinion, all deep mahogany browns, maroons, and navy blues. There was a desk in one corner of the room, and a crackling fireplace on the other side. A large fish tank sat along the western wall, which appeared to be home to a few vibrantly-colored koi. Next to the fireplace was a comfortable-looking cream couch and an armchair of the same color. Sitting in the armchair was a strikingly handsome man who Dean assumed was Castiel Novak.

”Hello, um... Should I sit?” Dean questioned, suddenly very nervous despite the comfortable atmosphere of the room. He wrung his hands together for a moment, his eyes flickering around nervously as if the walls were going to start closing in on him. 

”Yes, please come and sit down... And try to relax, if you can. I promise, I’m not as intimidating as I look.” Castiel said with a slight smile, clicking the end of his pen once and watching Dean, but not overbearingly so. 

Dean nodded as he walked over and took a seat on the couch, his hands coming down nervously onto his lap, his fingers twisting and twining together. 

Castiel’s piercing eyes down flickered to where Dean was wringing his hands on his lap, jotting something down quickly onto his notepad - probably about how Dean was a nervous wreck. He didn’t blame him. 

”Hello, Dean. I’m Dr. Castiel Novak. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Castiel spoke slowly, his voice dignified and polite as if they were in the goddamn nineteenth century. 

“Yeah, you too, man. ‘S good to meet you.” Dean mumbled, absently reminding himself that some people with the title of ‘doctor’ didn’t like to be addressed casually - but Castiel didn’t say anything or look disapproving. If anything, there was a ghost of a smile on his lips as he scribbled something else down onto his notepad. 

“Well, as this is just a consultation, there isn’t going to be a time limit for our conversation. We’ll say what needs to be said and go from there.” Castiel said as he looked back up to meet Dean’s eyes, something about the piercing gaze making the brunette want to squirm in his seat. 

”Oh, alright... That makes sense.” Dean said slowly, smoothing his sweat-slicked hands down over his thighs in an effort to calm the fuck down. “Are you a psychiatrist? Psychologist? What’s the difference?” He asked curiously, biting down on his lower lip. 

Castiel smiled slightly towards Dean, his voice like honeyed whiskey over rocks. “I’m a psychologist, not a psychiatrist, which means I can offer you advice, as well as psychological treatment, but I cannot prescribe you medication. If it became obvious that you need medication, you would go onto a psychiatrist from here.” He said simply, watching for nervous tics from Dean - and there were a lot of them. 

”Oh, okay... That makes sense, I guess.” Dean said quietly, his fingers drumming up against his jean-covered knees, nervously patting a rhythm into the fabric. “How long have you been a psychologist?”

“I’ve been a psychologist for ten years. I finished my six years of school when I was twenty-four, and I have been practicing ever since.” Castiel said kindly, giving Dean a small smile. 

“Well, if you’re just practicing, maybe I should go somewhere else.” Dean joked, a nervous grin pulling his lips up for a moment. He did some mental math, coming up with the fact that Castiel was thirty-four years old, which was only seven years older than himself. 

The blunt answer pulled a little laugh out of Castiel, not much more than an exhalation of air through his nose. He wrote something else down on his notepad before placing his pen down and smiling at Dean. “I was hoping to learn more about you and why you’re here, actually. Start from the beginning, if you can. Tell me everything.” 

Dean nodded, swallowing thickly at the request. He could do this, right? All he needed to do was relax. Dean took in a deep breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment. He felt himself calm down just slightly, his eyes opening and landing on Cas. He wanted to know everything? He’d get everything. 

And so he started from the beginning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me a comment? 🥺


	3. The Rundown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean lets it all spill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been pretty busy with work, but here I am, so that’s cool. I promise I haven’t abandoned this fic.
> 
> This chapter hasn’t been proofread yet, so that’s a rough one. Feel free to point out any mistakes, although I’ll probably catch them eventually.

Dean felt an uncomfortable pit form in his stomach when Castiel asked about his story, his fingers gripping the sides of his legs for a short moment. 

“Yeah, uh... Let me think for a minute.” Dean mumbled, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. Sammy had taught him some fancy breathing exercises a few days ago for when he was panicking, and they came in handy often. 

“Okay... I’m Dean Winchester. I’m a twenty-seven year old mechanic. I was born here in Lawrence and I’ve lived here ever since. My mom died when I was little, so it was me, my little brother, and my dad growing up. Dad wasn’t really a proactive parent... A lot of the time it was just me and Sammy, my brother. Dad drank - hard. It’s what put him in his grave eventually. I loved him, but I don’t miss him as much as I feel like I should. It makes me feel guilty sometimes, but then I remember how he’d act when he got drunk, and the guilt goes away.”

Dean paused for a moment, wondering whether Castiel had been intending to hear his life story or not. Well, he was already going all in. 

“I never went to college. I graduated high school and then took over the family shop when dad died. Dad left us the house, where Sammy and I lived until he went away to college. He’s a hot shot lawyer now - so damn proud of the kid.” 

Dean let out a slow breath, feeling a lump in his throat as he planned out his next words. He didn’t know if he could do this without crying and seeming like an absolute baby. There was something so uncomfortable about crying in front of a stranger, but Dean supposed that Castiel has probably seen worse in the past. 

“I met my boyfriend Benny on my twenty-third birthday. Me and some friends went out to the Roadhouse to celebrate, and he was the bartender. We really hit it off, and we ended up talking virtually all night. He is - _was_ \- one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met.” Dean said slowly, his voice cracking just slightly as he felt his eyes well up with salty tears. 

“Shit, I’m sorry... I came in saying I wasn’t going to cry, and now we’re ten minutes in and I’m already crying.” Dean mumbled, angrily wiping his tears away with his sleeve. He didn’t meet Castiel’s eyes, afraid of the look of judgement that he expected to be in the other man’s expression.   
  
“Please don’t apologize. This is a safe place... Crying is good for the body and the mind.” Castiel said kindly, writing down something in his notes for a moment.   
  
“Okay, yeah... I’ll just - Yeah, alright.” Dean sniffled a few times, getting himself back under control as he began to speak again. He risked a glance up towards Castiel, surprised to see nothing but understanding in his eyes.

“We were together for almost four years. We had our ups and downs just like anyone else, but I truly loved him more than anything. Physically, he was this big, scary bear of a man, but when he spoke, it was all Southern charm. He could sweet talk just about anyone. He cared for others - Even people he didn’t know. He was the type of person who could be friends with absolutely anyone.” Dean murmured quietly, keeping his eyes down in his lap, his vision slightly blurred. “He was too damn good for me and we both knew it.” 

”Why do you say that?” Castiel asked, watching Dean with a questioning. “You seem very intelligent and well-rounded, if I might say so.”

”He just... I don’t know. He was better than me. Kinder - Easier to talk to. Sometimes I ignore calls from people that I love just because I’m not in the mood to talk. I’ve cut people off in traffic before. I walk past the Salvation Army bell ringers without making eye-contact sometimes.” 

”That’s just being human, Dean. Nobody is perfect... Your wrongs don’t make other people’s rights.” Castiel chimed in with that oddly soothing voice of his, peeking up at Dean over the edge of his clipboard.   
  
“I guess so... I just don’t know sometimes. I don’t know if I’m good or not.” Dean said quietly, clearing his throat as he glanced up at Castiel.   
  
“Anyways, we’d been having troubles for a few months before the accident. There was nothing specific that was wrong with either of us. I guess we were both pretty busy, and we didn’t have time for each other, and it led to fighting - well, mostly bickering. We were rarely intimate besides a hug here and there... I guess we began to feel more like roommates.”   
  
Dean let out a slow breath as he shifted on the couch, looking uncomfortable for a moment. “It feels bad to complain about him after what happened... Like I’m disrespecting him or something.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with sharing your feelings. Having a bad few months doesn’t undermine the good times you had together.” Castiel said quietly, scribbling down something in his notebook as if he’d remembered something important. If Dean didn’t know any better, he’d say that Cas was doodling, but he _did_ know better.   
  
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Dean said quietly, watching the tip of Castiel’s pencil wiggle as he wrote. He felt a little shaky still, not wanting to speak the next words aloud or get to the bad part. 

”He was hit by a drunk driver in August. It killed him on impact. The other guy was completely fine - I think the worst he got was a few scratches. We had been fighting before it happened, and I can’t get my last words to him out of my head. It makes me want to crawl out of my skin whenever I think about it.” Dean said slowly, wiping at his eyes with his dampened sleeves. “It’s all I can think about now, day and night. Some days are better than others, but sometimes I won’t get out of bed for days.”

”I’m truly very sorry for your loss. The death of a loved one is something that nobody should have to go through.” Castiel said sincerely as he watched Dean, one corner his mouth turned downwards in a frown. 

”I’d like to help you, Dean, if I can. Healing won’t be an easy process, but with enough time and reflection, I do believe you can achieve it.” The psychologist murmured as he set his notepad aside and met Dean’s eyes directly.

He honestly wasn’t sure there was too much that Castiel could do, but at this point he was almost desperate for any sort of relief. Dean didn’t see any bad intentions in the other man’s gaze, and he truly seemed to have a trustworthy aura surrounding him.   
  
“Usually I try to do things on my own, but I could honestly use all the help I can get at this point.” Dean said quietly, pushing a hand through his sandy hair and sighing under his breath. He sniffled and rubbed at his red eyes, taking a few calming breaths.   
  
“And I’d very much like to help aid in the process. Is there anything else I should know about you?” Castiel said with a small smile, seeming to be so caring for a virtual stranger.

Dean thought for a moment and shook his head, unable to think of any other crucial information. There was a chance that he was forgetting something, but his brain was already so fried from the brief social interaction; he felt like he needed to take a long nap now. 

”I don’t think there’s anything else... I suppose I should let you go. I didn’t mean to talk your ear off.” Dean apologized, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously and glancing towards the blue-eyed man.   
  
“To the contrary, I’m glad you did.” Castiel stood up, watching as the green-eyed man did the same thing. “I look forward to hearing from you in the future. Take as much time as you need to think everything over.” The older man said, holding out a hand politely for Dean to shake. 

Dean accepted the handshake, his own hand warm and clammy. It felt strange to shake hands like acquaintances with someone he just cried in front of for nearly forty-five minutes.   
  
“Thank you... I’ll definitely call you soon to set something up. I appreciate your patience.” Dean said quietly as he moved away from the handshake, wiping his hands on his pants before making a move for the door.   
  
Dean murmured another goodbye as he walked out of the room and through the building’s front doors, getting back into the Impala and sinking into the comfort of its leather seats. He was emotionally drained after his conversation with the therapist, but he liked the other man well enough. Castiel seemed to be a man of few words, but he also seemed to truly mean what he said.  
  
Once Dean was home, he immediately went into his room and laid down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He felt slightly more calm from just venting - with any luck, he’d feel even better from actual sessions.

As Dean began to drift off, he visualized Benny’s features once again, feeling comfort instead of agony for the time being. Maybe this would be good for him in the long run. He didn’t think he’d be ‘good’ - not for a long time - but maybe he’d be a little better. 


	4. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean sees his best friend for the first time in way too long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m alive! (barely, though, so don’t get ur hopes up)
> 
> This is kind of a filler chapter so I get my muse back, but it’s cute.

Dean woke up the next morning (well, afternoon) to the sound of his phone ringing, and for a moment he thought it was an alarm, but what need would he have for that? He grumbled under his breath as he reached for source of the offensive noise, his sleep-addled fingers finding his phone and bringing it to his now opened eyes. 

-CHARLES: Incoming Call-

Ah, fuck. It was Charlie, his best friend. The same best friend that he has been unintentionally ignoring for a few weeks. He picked up the phone and cleared his throat to speak, but Charlie beat him to it.   
  
“Dean!” She shrieked into the phone, causing the aforementioned man to wince and lean away a bit from the noise. 

“Hey, Char... You nearly blew my eardrums out. It’s only...” Dean trailed to check the time, laughing quietly under his breath. “Okay, so it’s 2pm. Never mind - Scream all you want.”

”I will, thank you very much.” Charlie responded, sounding out of breath from her outburst. “I’m coming over later with takeout and at least four of the Harry Potter movies. If you say no I’ll call Sam and make myself cry, and we both _know_ that he’ll show up to your apartment and tear you-“ 

“-Charles! Charlie, alright! You can come over, just... Please stop yelling. You’re giving my headache a headache.” Dean groaned softly as he rubbed at his forehead, making the move to sit up in bed, which made him get something of a head rush. 

“I knew I could make you see reason. I’m awesome like that.” Charlie’s smile was tangible through the phone, and it made the corner of Dean’s mouth tic up for a moment. 

“That’s why you’re the queen, Red.” Dean teased, pushing a hand up through his mildly greasy hair. He needed a shower before she came over for sure.   
  
“Obviously, Winchester. Pizza or burgers?”   
  
“You know the answer to that. Come over around five?” Dean questioned, stretching out his free arm and then switching the phone to his other hand to do the same thing once again. 

”Five it is! I’ll see you then - Love you, Dean-Bean.” 

“You too, Charles. See ya later.” Dean murmured as he ended the call, feeling unusually happy after he hung up. Maybe it was the fact that he was going to see his best friend later, or maybe it was successful therapy consultation from yesterday. Either way, Dean got out of bed with a spring in his step that hadn’t been there in quite a while. 

The green-eyed man took a shower and fixed himself some eggs and toast for breakfast, managing to do the dishes that had been in the sink long enough to accumulate grime. Delightful.   
  
It was just about four-thirty when Dean’s apartment was deemed clean enough for company, and the lack of clutter was a breath of fresh air for the man. He pulled on a warm hoodie and a pair of sweats to lounge around in until Charlie got there, sitting down on the couch and scrolling through social media for a while.   
  
Dean was in the middle of reading about the long-term dangers of liquid hand soap on the skin when the sound of his doorbell rang out through the house. He got up and went to open the door, not expecting the 120 pounds of _very_ excited Charlie Bradbury to all but leap into his arms.   
  
“Charlie, the food!” Dean exclaimed, catching the paper food bag before it could touch the ground. He leaned away from the embrace and rolled his eyes fondly, smiling a little as he glanced at his friend. “It’s good to see you, Red. C’mon in.”   
  
“Dean Winchester, I’m starting to think you care more about burgers than you do about me.” Charlie pouted playfully as she walked inside and plopped down onto the couch. “I missed you soooo much! I’m glad I threatened you over the phone, otherwise you might not have said yes.”   
  
Dean let out a soft chuckle as he moved to sit next to the redhead, glancing at her with a fond expression. “You play dirty, Bradbury. It’s a good thing you’re cute.”

”Aww, you think I’m cute?” Charlie cooed, placing her hand over her heart and jokingly batting her eyelashes up at Dean. 

“You know what? I changed my mind.” He grinned as he hooked an arm around Charlie’s shoulders and gave her a noogie on her head, making her squeal indignantly.   
  
“Frickin’ asshole. Eat your food and shut up.” Charlie huffed, although she let another laugh slip before she began to eat.   
  
Dean joined her in eating their food, watching the redhead get up to put The Goblet of Fire into the DVD player.   
  
“How’d you know that this one’s my favorite?” He teased, finishing off his burger and setting his trash back into the empty bag.   
  
“Did you forget that I know everything about you, Winchester?” Charlie rolled her eyes and settled back into the couch with a content smile. 

“Oh, whatever. You don’t have to brag about it.” Dean smiled as he glanced at the screen and began to watch the movie, letting out a breath. 

The two watched the film silently for a while, one occasionally shoving the other if they got particularly antsy. It was just the nature of their friendship, and Dean wouldn’t change it for anything.   
  
After a half hour or so, Charlie spoke up over the movie, glancing at Dean. “Have you been doing alright? I’ve really missed talking to you.”   
  
Dean thought for a moment before he answered, meeting Charlie’s eyes almost hesitantly. “I’ve missed you too, Red... I’m doing better, I think. I saw a therapist for the first time yesterday. It was just a consultation, but it wasn’t the worst. I’m probably going to schedule an appointment soon.”

”Oh, that’s great! I’m really glad that you’re doing better. It’s super awesome that you’re seeing a therapist. I went to one for a while too, and he was super cool. He helped me with my anxiety and stuff.” Charlie said softly, gently bumping Dean with her shoulder. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right? Even if you just need to talk to someone, I’ll be here for you.”   
  
Dean felt affection warm his chest as he smiled at his best friend. “I know, Charlie. Thank you... I really do appreciate you.” He said softly, moving to kiss the top of her flaming red hair.   
  
After their little moment, they watched the rest of the movie in near silence, only making the occasional comment about Draco’s hair or equally ridiculous topics. 

When the movie ended, a whopping two and a half hours later, Dean was beginning to feel exhausted, despite the fact that it was only a little past eight. He was relatively sure that his social meter was empty for the night, the green-eyed man turning to give Charlie a soft smile. 

“I think I’m gonna turn in for the night, Red. You’re more than welcome to crash here if you want, though. Just don’t expect pancakes and face masks in the morning.” Dean teased with a quiet chuckle, making the redhead roll her eyes.   
  
“I think I’ll brave the terrifying eight o’clock streets. We’ll have to have a sleepover another night, though.” Charlie smiled as she stood up and grabbed her movies, giving Dean one more hug before she went to the door.   
  
After another five minutes of exchanging goodbyes, Dean watched his friend get into her car and leave, his eyes stinging with the need to close immediately. He headed back inside, changing into his pajamas and brushing his teeth.   
  
Despite how he crashed near the end of the night, the brunette felt pretty good as he slid into bed and turned the lights out. Sam and Charlie really were his support group, and he didn’t know what he’d do without either of them, even when they managed to team up and prank him. 

He fell asleep smiling for the first time in months. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me a comment or a kudos if you enjoyed this! I thrive off of feedback, positive or constructive.


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